


Ajeeb Dastan Hai Ye/Oh, What a Strange Story This Is

by AvaCelt



Category: Gintama
Genre: Alternate Ending, Headcanon, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-16 06:58:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5818606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvaCelt/pseuds/AvaCelt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With debts paid and people dead, Shinsuke writes his own ending.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ajeeb Dastan Hai Ye/Oh, What a Strange Story This Is

**Author's Note:**

> Part of the title is the name of a prominent Hindi song, the other half is a translation.
> 
> "Ajeeb Dastan Hai Ye" by Shailendra and Lata Mangeshkar. Can be listened to here [(x)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VEY2Szh0dEM).
> 
> This is a headcanon ending to Gintama. It's based off the happenings that took place in chapter 572.

Between cradling the body of his surrogate father and letting his tears mix with Rakuyou's raindrops, Shinsuke had forgotten about a lot of things. It was to be expected. He had miraculously fought at full strength even though he'd been in a coma for far too long, and even after the heads had rolled and he'd sat on Rakuyou's filthy streets with his father's dead body in his arms, he forgot a lot. He forgot about Gintoki, who was shell shocked and unaware of his broken leg and torn left ear. He forgot about Katsura, who still stood still in the rain and let the toxic drops wash away the fact that he'd done the same thing Gintoki had done ten years before. He forgot about the Yato girl and the bespectacled boy who were trying to splint Gintoki's broken leg, Takechi and Matako who were strapping Bansai's unconscious body to Tacheki's back, and the Renho with his duck costume gone and his red eyes vigilant and unwavering as ever.

Maybe it's a day, two days, a month, two years- Shinsuke doesn't know. Somewhere along the way, the bodies had been buried, his former teammates returned to their lives, and Takechi doubled down in the strategy room to formulate better, more efficient ways to take out the Bakufu altogether and give rise to the new era. Matako gave him long looks while Bansai pretended not to notice. One day, one of the crewmen asked whether or not the Harusame's former seventh division intended to send an envoy any time soon because their insistent tailing of the Kiheitai ships was becoming incredibly frustrating for some of the guardsmen.

And that's when he remembered that somewhere along the way, Kamui had disappeared.

“He repaid his debt,” Abuto drawled.

A deep, throaty laugh reverberated through the packed hall. Shinsuke took a long drag of his kiseru to stifle his mirth. “He's not dead.”

“For all intents and purposes, he's always been pretty dead inside,” Abuto deadpanned back. “He doesn't like to feel, ya know? He thinks it makes him weak. He once thought killing his father would make those feelings go away and that he wouldn't have to be weak anymore. It's like he shut off his empathy. Worked well for a while, I'd say.” Abuto wriggled his prosthetic. “You should see the other guy.” He grinned. “We'll get outta yer way if yer feelin' uncomfortable. We just guessed that if we tagged along for a little while, Danchou would come back eventually. But, it's been two months, so either he's finally dead or he's really overthinking this whole feelings business. A little bit of an emo, that Danchou of ours.”

Shinsuke smiled around his pipe. It had been two months. Gintoki and Tatsuma had sent him letters every week, and he hadn't answered a single one. “Send a few envoys.”

Abuto nodded, signaling two of his men over to Matako, Bansai, and Takechi. “Thanks.”

Shinsuke walked away, farther and farther down the ship, until he came across the storage unit where the individual travel pods were stored.

“Shinsuke-sama!” Matako called exasperatedly, reaching for his arm. Before she could grab a hold of his haori, Takechi pulled her back.

“Let him go,” Takechi pleaded.

Matako cried instead.

* * *

He supposed if he'd read the letters and wrote back, he wouldn't have to deal with the surprise appearance of Gintoki, his surrogate children, and Kamui's father. Luckily for him, the tourism and immigration units on the planet of the Shinra were pretty shitty. Gintoki picked his nose while Kamui's little sister read off a travel brochure, and before the bespectacled young man and galaxy hunter could catch sight of him, Shinsuke slipped into the crowd of outgoing passengers, wrapping the cloak tighter around his face.

What he found a week later was a half-naked young man lying prone in the middle of a field, caked with mud and wet with rain. The redness of the Yato's hair was imperceptible while soaked with black soil and toxic rainwater. His skin was a sickly gray, as if on its way to decomposition. Shinsuke supposed that's how most dead bodies ended up looking when no one came around to collect them. He had to give the Yato credit though- he definitely tried his best. Shinsuke gazed at the hundreds of bodies piled around Kamui's corpse, as if haloing the young man on his journey to the true death where hellfire burned brighter than the color of his hair. They were mercenaries, no doubt, probably from various groups across the galaxy, maybe from what remained of Harusame, maybe even local ones thirsting for a hunt. Shinsuke wanted to tell them all that they were fools for doing what they did. Shinsuke was a destroyer, a paragon of hatred and malignancy in a universe that killed just as quickly as it gave birth. He wanted to tell the mercenaries that he'd hunt down every single of their family members, any living sons, any daughters, mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers- Shinsuke wanted to tell them that he'd hunt and kill them all to even the score. Blood for blood. They took Shouyou from him, and he swore to destroy the world. They took Shouyou from him again, and he swore that if there was one hand that deserved his head, it would be Katsura's.

And now Kamui was dead, so surely he'd have to take. He'd take, and take, and take until there were no more families to kill and nothing left to make up for forgetting. He supposed it was his obsessive entitlement. Shinsuke knew he was rotten, but he was rotten all the way to the core, and really, was there any other way to exist?

And Kamui? Kamui had made that core just a little sweeter than all the others that he'd laid claim to.

Shinsuke found the Yato's umbrella, half-broken and rusted. Shinsuke supposed Kamui had been rotting for a few days now, most likely still fighting his battle when Shinsuke's travel pod landed on the Shinra's shores. He chuckled softly. The little Yato girl would soon find this place as well, but too bad for her since Shinsuke didn't intend to leave Kamui's body behind. Abuto and the rest of his crew were still waiting for their leader. Sadly that there would be a dead body instead of a living Yato coming to them, but Shinsuke supposed he deserved that kind of shame. He'd forgotten Kamui, and in return, Kamui had gone on to Hell without him.

“Fancy meeting you here, Earth brawler-san,” whispered a broken voice.

A certain kind of serenity descended upon Shinsuke. His heart began to thunder in his chest, and he wondered if this is what Hell would feel like. Bodies everywhere, his father's headless body lost somewhere in the fields, the man he could have loved rotting in the middle but still able to speak, still able to remind Shinsuke of every deadly sin he'd ever committed- was that a voice? It was a broken voice, a little on the irritating side, but quite lovely without the cacophony of the universe interrupting it.

“I was gonna bury you next to your mother,” Shinsuke muttered, picking up the broken umbrella and making his way back to the living corpse. He strapped the broken umbrella to his utility belt and then took off his cloak, wrapping the thick cloth around Kamui's cold body.

Kamui began to shiver beneath the warmth. “Is this Hell?” He tried softly, blue eyes dazed and hollow.

Shinsuke shrugged, hooking his left arm underneath Kamui's legs and wrapping his right arm around his torso. “Probably.”

“It's nice,” Kamui sighed, leaning into Shinsuke's warmth as Shinsuke began to carry him back towards civilization.

Shinsuke wondered if Hell would grant him the privilege of holding a loved one in his arms. “I suppose.”

* * *

Somewhere along way, Shinsuke had forgotten the meaning behind warm skin and a gentle touch. Kamui slept the entire way back to the Kiheitai and Yato ships docked in Osaka. Several times, he mumbled incoherently in his native tongue, some of the phrases decipherable to Shinsuke's limited knowledge of the Yato tongue, but most of it incomprehensible. Several times, a tear or two escaped Kamui's eyes, and Shinsuke pretended not to notice. When he finally parked the travel pod on the landing deck of the main Kiheitai ship, they were greeted by a medical team and several Yato with grim faces and solemn postures. When the medical team was done checking Kamui's vitals and hooking him up to an Amanto-grade saline drip and several other tubes, every Yato cleared the deck to follow the nurses back to the medical bay. In the end, only Bansai, Matako, Takechi, and Shinsuke remained on the landing deck.

“He'll be fine,” Takechi promised.

“Of course he will! After all Shinsuke-sama's done for him, he'd better wake up,” Matako grumbled. Bansai tried to get a word in, but Shinsuke disappeared down the stairs and into the hustle-and-bustle of the port before anyone could catch him.

Later in the day, Shinsuke reappeared with a few sets of clothes bought from the visiting Chinese merchants, along with hair ties, brightly colored shoes, and cloaks in various shades of blue and red. He carried them into Kamui's room and didn't come out. A few hours later, Bansai and Matako peeked into the room to see Shinsuke slumbering next to the unconscious redhead, flanked by Abuto and several other Yato who were passed out on chairs and on the floor.

Only Matako thumbed the soft silks and cottons, letting her tears wet the fabrics. Bansai gazed upon his commander, his friend, and wondered if he'd found the peace he'd been looking for when he left everyone to find a dead man.

* * *

Two days later, the Yorozuya and the strongest Yato in the universe crashed through the Kiheitai's doors and interrupted dinner. Takechi's plate of prawns and rice ended up in the bespectacled young man's face while Bansai petted Sadaharu and made light conversation with Sakata Gintoki. The Yato father-and-daughter pair, however, glared daggers into Matako's and Abuto's souls until they exasperatedly led them down two halls, three flights of stairs, and yet another hall before reaching the Kiheitai's medical bay.

It's safe to mention that they were not, in fact, equipped to deal with Kamui stuffing his face with plain rice and cottage cheese while the commander of the Kiheitai smoked lazily in his lap (without his clothes on, of course).

The screeches that reverberated throughout the ship were recorded for posterity's sake.

* * *

Shinsuke supposed he'd forgotten a lot over the years- like how Tatsuma's disability only served to make him stronger, how Katsura's various bouts of depression over the years had yet to do him in for good, how Gintoki had found a new family after having lost his old one. He'd forgotten about old friends, old families, old everything. Even when he had new friends, a new family, something to look forward to, he'd craved for their destruction as well. He supposed Takechi and Bansai both knew, deep down, that following his lead guaranteed a violent death, but Shinsuke also supposed that they were fine with that because they'd found friends. They wanted to die alongside friends. Matako wanted to die beside him. Bansai almost did. Takechi wouldn't mind finishing Shinsuke's work and then taking a sword to his own throat after he saw it come to fruition. Deep down, they had all prepared for a violent ending, but it was an ending they were willing to crawl to with their hands and feet bound, if only Shinsuke was there to lead them.

He supposed he could find a way where it wouldn't have to come to that.

“Do you know what happens when you burn something to the ground?” Kamui chirped, drawing circles on Shinsuke's naked chest. Shinsuke blinked, his eyes focused on the stars above. “You can always build something new over the ashes,” Kamui continued. “A new future, a new dream.”

“Only if there's something worth living for,” Shinsuke corrected him.

“There's always something worth living for,” Kamui giggled. “Food, sex, money, glory, you name it. The trick is to fool yourself into believing it's worth it.”

“And what do you live for, Space Brawler-san?”

Kamui gave him a long, languid kiss. His nimble fingers kneaded the flesh of Shinsuke's cheeks before traveling down to his buttocks. Shinsuke let out ragged breaths when the Yato finally let go. Kamui smirked, grinding his manhood against Shinsuke's. “What do you think?”

Shinsuke choked out a laugh, reaching for his kiseru. “Lecher,” he teased.

Kamui nodded heartily, undoing Shinsuke's obi and lifting his hips. “Absolutely.”

When Kamui pushed in, Shinsuke sighed. His pipe slipped out of his fingers when he wrapped his arms around the man moving earnestly in between his legs, gripping his thighs and giggling madly into his ear. Perhaps, long ago, he'd forgotten that between living and dying, there was a plane where one could simply exist. It didn't have to be for anyone or anything, just a place where one could sit and look at the stars without having to wonder if tomorrow would be worse than today. Shinsuke wondered if that plane of existence could be shared with people other than himself, if he could share with living, breathing people instead of the corpses of his father, his younger self, of the friends he'd let die out of sheer greed and hatred.

Kamui pressed a kiss to his dead eye. “I love you.”

Shinsuke wondered if he'd ever meet a man with deep, red hair and nimble fingers in Hell. “Hmm.”

Kamui just chuckled, letting his hips provide the rhythm until Shinsuke came. Shinsuke held onto the redhead's hips after he finished inside of Shinsuke, relishing in the warmth only another being could provide. For the longest time, he'd forgotten how pleasant the feeling of flesh and laughter coupled together could bring to his soul.

“One day, we can build something new from whatever's left,” Kamui promised, pressing kisses against Shinsuke's sweaty cheeks.

Shinsuke gazed at the man whispering into his ear, then to the stars, then back to Kamui again. He let his calloused fingers thread through the silky red hair, marveling at the softness of its touch. “I suppose.”

* * *

 A month later, the Joui Four were settled in Otose's snackshop while several Kiheitai, Yato, and Kaientai members kept watch outside in plainclothes.

“Are we seriously voting for Zura? You fuckers have lost your mind if you think I'm leaving the fate of this country at the hands of a psychotic wighead,” Gintoki deadpanned.

“The Internet is obsessed with him and half of the Tokugawa cabinet is in love with him, ya know!” Tatsuma declared. Mutsu pulled up the figures on a slideshow playing on the snack shop's wall, assisted by Tama's various technological capabilities. “He'd be the perfect leader, ahahahaha!”

“That's because you're backing him with your money, you god damn capitalist!” Gintoki accused rather loudly.

“You freeload and he's the asshole capitalist?” Otose scoffed and kept puffing on her cigarette.

“Nobunobu-kun refuses to come out of hiding, so I have to do something!” Tatsuma cried helplessly. Catherine handed him a tissue.

“I think Zura could do it,” Shinsuke drawled, taking a lazy puff of his pipe.

“Oh, look, now Takachibi's got opinions!” Gintoki hissed scathingly. “Where were your goddamn opinions when you were in a coma for a month!? How about when you kidnapped Kagura's brother!? You don't have opinions; you just do as you please!”

“He's foaming at the mouth,” Tatsuma whispered into Otose's ear. “I think he's having sugar withdrawal.”

Otose sighed listlessly. “Doctors say he's finally developed diabetes. Can't have a single parfait ever again in his life.”

Tatsuma gasped. “Oh lordie.”

“Serves you right,” Shinsuke deadpanned.

“SAY THAT AGAIN, ASSHOLE!” Gintoki screeched, brandishing his bokuto.

A swift punch to the middle of his skull brought the silver-haired samurai down. He passed out on the table while Katsura flexed his fingers and huffed nobly at the unconscious samurai foaming at the mouth.

“I only intended to lead the revolution. Leading the new country will have to be up to others.”

“Why?” Shinsuke drawled.

“Because I am a killer and quite possibly psychotic, and I don't think Edo needs someone like me in their prime minister position,” Katsura answered truthfully.

“But Edo loves you!” Tatsuma exclaimed. “And out of all of us, you actually care about this place, ahahahaha!”

“I didn't burn down Nobunobu's palace just so you could hand off the title of prime minister to some puppet sucking an Amanto's dick behind the rice paper screen,” Shinsuke deadpanned.

“The only one sucking Amanto cock here is you, asshole,” Gintoki slurred.

Katsura thumped Gintoki's head again, once more knocking him out. “I'll think about it,” he sighed.

“Think fast, because it's either you, or I pull out all my funding, ahahahaha!”

“See, now Tatsuma's threatening to leave Edo high and dry,” Shinsuke drawled.

Katsura gasped dramatically. “Tatsuma! I thought you were more noble than that!”

“All's fair in love and corporate warfare, Zura, ahahahaha! But seriously, if you don't accept the position, I'm opening up my corporate headquarters in China, and then who'll fund Edo's reconstruction!?”

“I cannot believe you'd threaten Edo's future like that,” Katsura cried. “Fine! I'll become prime minister!”

“Yay! Ahahahaha!”

“Oh, thank god,” Mutsu muttered.

“Better him than me,” Shinsuke mumbled, taking a lazy smoke of his pipe.

“If we all die, it's on you assholes,” Gintoki coughed, rubbing the sore spot on his head.

A few months later, the old world went away. Shinsuke caught tuberculosis somewhere along the way and almost died, but he didn't, of course, because Kamui was a bit of a mastermind at uncovering secret life hacks. He was bedridden for a good six months, but on his 28th birthday, he woke up to a bright day and amazing birthday sex. Sure, his thighs and lower back were sore for another week, but he didn't mind smoking and gazing out on Edo's skyline for the duration of his bed rest.

“We built something from ashes,” Kamui proclaimed, stuffing shrimp into his mouth while lazing in Shinsuke's arms.

Shinsuke chuckled, looking out into the new world he helped build after crushing the old. In one world, he'd kill himself after burning down the Bakufu. In another world, he'd succumb to his tuberculosis and miss Katsura's efforts to fix their world. In yet another world, he'd never wake up from his coma, and things would end in flames.

But in this world- in this world he lived to smoke another day. Matako's curses and Takechi's hurried running thrummed below in the courtyard. A few rooms down, Shinsuke heard the light twang of Bansai's guitar. Tomorrow, there would be new songs to play, Gintoki would come over for a game of shogi, and Katsura's duck would drop by with new reports. Maybe it would rain; maybe it wouldn't. Who knew?

Shinsuke threaded his fingers through Kamui's long hair, planting a soft kiss on his forehead. “I suppose.”

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> Takasugi surviving (headcanon), Katsura becoming a government official (real life canon), Sakamoto opening up his own corportation (real life canon). I consulted Wikipedia on this adventure.


End file.
